


Of Liquors

by huntressed



Series: in an alternate universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, and obviously there's Teddy being a gentleman, idk - Freeform, kinda angst?, non-magic au, some drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntressed/pseuds/huntressed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But by the looks of it, he’s not an arse and she could see that rudeness is not a part of him. It’s all over his face, it’s like he’s made up of one-hundred different kinds of nice. He’s the kind of guy who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so when Victoire asked him what he does for a living, he told her that he’s a photographer. </p><p>There was a time when they were talking that it came to the topic of people and expectations. Of course she slipped and told him that people have always expected her to turn out as great as her chere mere. And of course, he had the same experiences, too. It made her utterly happy to just talk to someone who finally understands everything she feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Liquors

**Author's Note:**

> Just a head's up, there will be French in this story (I didn't provide translations I'm so sorry). And the idea of this came to me whilst I was scrolling through my twitter filled with mentions of alcohol. Lmao. But yes, I hope you like it. xo

Now, Victoire knew that if her father ever found out about her slight drinking problem, she’s as good as dead. But it’s not like she couldn’t help herself to stop, she tried dozens of times, all of them ended up in one miserable failure.

It was the numbness that had coursed through her veins whenever she takes another sip of the mighty, triple distilled vodka in her glass. How she loved it when she’s barely able to feel a thing whenever the liquor flows down her throat.

“Hey Vic, you do know that you’re drinking too much, right?” Her friend, Amelie said, attempting to take away her glass of vodka.

Victoire scowled and held on tighter to her glass, “ _Je m’en fous_ , Amelie. I’ve been doing this half my life and nothing bad has happened to me, just yet.” She shrugged, long blonde tresses falling over her shoulders.

Her friend shook her head, “Don’t beat yourself up every time something goes wrong back home, ‘Toire. You know I’m always here for you, Nessa and I are here for you so please. Don’t ever blame yourself for anything else, okay?”

 _“Je ne peux pas vous promettre quoi que ce soit,_ my dear Amelie.” And she winked before disappearing off into the crowd of people in the dancefloor. However, she only did it to shake off Amelie. As soon as her strawberry blonde hair disappeared, Victoire went back to the bar and ordered another shot of vodka.

“You look like you’re having a rough day.” A man said, he’s probably Victoire’s age. Maybe older by a year or two. His hair is a cross between brown and blonde, and Victoire thinks he’s attractive. He’s taller than her by several inches and she felt that his brown eyes could just stare at her soul for ages.

Victoire snorted, followed by her downing all of the glass’ contents.  “More like a rough life, you mean. But I reckon some people have it worse than me, so please, save your talk for someone who deserves it much more than I do.”

“Teddy.” He smiled, his hand outstretched in front of her.

“Wait, you mean Teddy? Like the teddy bear? _C’est mignon._ ” She giggled, and by now, Victoire’s not sure if it’s still her or the alcohol talking. Another glass of vodka appeared in front of her and it laid forgotten in front of her, seeing as most of her attention had drifted into the form of a young man named Teddy.

“Yes, like the teddy bear. It was a nickname my godfather gave to me.” He chuckled, and that was when she noticed that he has a very cute pair of dimples.

“Victoire.” She smiled, taking his hand away from his pockets and shaking it. Yes, she’s definitely drunk off her arse and she would probably wake up beside this guy tangled in the sheets next morning. But that is if he is the kind of guy she would usually meet at clubs.

But by the looks of it, he’s not an arse and she could see that rudeness is not a part of him. It’s all over his face, it’s like he’s made up of one-hundred different kinds of nice. He’s the kind of guy who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so when Victoire asked him what he does for a living, he told her that he’s a photographer.

It brought a smile up to her face when she heard about his answer. “ _C’est de la bombe!_ I love photographs. I’ve always loved the story behind them, and what it means to the photographer and to the subject, sometimes. _Une fois dans mon enfance,_ I wanted to be a photographer, but it didn’t really work out for me since I have shaky arms. So I gave up on it.” She shrugged.

And she could see his smile, a genuine smile. Something she doesn’t quite have.

They talked for hours, resulting in a casual banter mixed with sarcasm every now and then (courtesy of Victoire Isabelle Weasley). They had lots of things in common, their love for photography, indie music, and a little bit of EDM. She found out that they went to the same 1975 concert back in July, and to the same Arctic Monkeys two years ago. She also found out that he hated being called teddy bear, but he goes along with it every time he meets someone because he thinks it’s rude to just call them out for doing something that they don’t know is annoying to someone.

There was a time when they were talking that it came to the topic of people and expectations. Of course she slipped and told him that people have always expected her to turn out as great as her _chere mere._ And of course, he had the same experiences, too. It made her utterly happy to just talk to someone who finally understands everything she feels.

“Well, it’s nice meeting a very beautiful and nice French girl in a club like this.” He mused, looking at the time on his wristwatch. “But I do believe I have to go home. If you—if you’re going back already, then maybe you should let me walk you home. You can’t go back to your flat in that state.”

And that was the first time she actually felt nice that day, “I’d love that. But… I have to go check on my friend, though. She’s probably worried.”

“Oh, have no worries then, I’ll come with you.” Teddy smiled, following her lead as she looked for the familiar redhead in the place.

When they did find her, she was making out with a lanky guy. Both of them aren’t drunk, Victoire could tell. She had to call Amelie out twice before her friend disentangled herself from the stranger.

“Are you coming home or…?” She trailed off, her eyebrow raised at her friend.

“Sadly, no. I might just have a great one over here.” Amelie winked before waving at Victoire, “You can go home if you like, I’m pretty sure he’d walk you home.” Her gaze flickered over to Teddy whose hands are currently in the pockets of his coat.

Victoire smiled and gave her friend a playful nudge. “Have fun then.” She said before telling Teddy that he could safely walk her home now. She even added in a few threats and brought up the fact that there is mace spray in her purse, just in case he gets any ideas.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, not at all. What we had a while ago at the bar? That’s connection, I tell you. And I swear I’m not that low and creepy to even try and sexually assault a woman. It’s very lowly.” He replied, escorting her out the door.

Sometime halfway through the flats in the college neighborhood, Teddy draped his coat over Victoire. And she saw him shivering in cold, seeing as he was only wearing a plain white shirt under his coat.

“I don’t get it, you were so smart back there but so stupid now. Come on, I’m pretty sure this coat is somehow big enough for us to share.” She said, and eventually, they did end up sharing the same coat. And she was thankful that she wasn’t hammered when she got to the point of meeting him. That would have been utterly embarrassing, seeing as she’s a rambling mess of a girl when she’s drunk off her arse.

A wide grin is spread across Teddy’s face followed by a slight chuckle as he slips his arm into the left side of the coat, the side of their bodies are pressed against each other in close proximity, Victoire slightly in front of Teddy. She used her left hand to grab Teddy’s arm and put it around her shoulder.

They walked together in silence and as Victoire stopped in front of her flat, she slipped out of Teddy’s coat before turning around to face him. “You know, you should really call me and then we can talk when I’m not semi-drunk.”

“Okay then.” He smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

With that, Victoire handed her phone over to him, and he did the exact same thing to her. She lightly tapped her number on the screen of his phone, and entered her name. She returned his phone back to him as he did to her.

“ _Merci beaucoup_ for walking me home.”

“You’re welcome, Victoire.” 


End file.
